


song drabbles

by halfaperson



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Eating Disorders, Internalized Homophobia, Multi, References to Depression, Substance Abuse, all of this in the first fic bcs it's canon typical, iasip spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 12:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10490589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfaperson/pseuds/halfaperson
Summary: based off of a playlist that spotify made for me. basically, i'll be writing a fic (in different fanons etc) for each one, or at least each that i find to be worthy of it. these will be updated basically whenever i feel like it and may be quite long.





	

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MACDENNIS
> 
> BASED OFF OF : this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZ_WVsP9RkE
> 
> INCLUDES : eating disorders, depression (?) , substance abuse (somewhat canon typical), internalised homophobia, and swearing
> 
> THIS IS TOLD FROM MAC'S PERSPECTIVE. I WAS TRYING TO GET INTO THE HEAD OF HIS CHARACTER, THIS IN NO WAY REFLECTS MY BELIEFS ON ANY SUBJECT.
> 
> italics is mac's thoughts, otherwise is text.

( _he's not gone. he's not because he can't be, because he wouldn't. he wouldn't do this. he loves too much, too hard. he couldn't have done this_ )

mac lay in bed rubbing his eyes with dirty hands, smelling beer and gasoline

( _the bed he had gotten for himself and dennis like an idiot, he had rebuilt their apartment, he was pathetic, oh god it really was his fault wasn't it oh god oh god oh god_ ).

it would be light soon. he tried to convince himself that it would be okay in the morning light, that dennis would be back because he couldn't face the reality

( _was the only way he could truly be okay by not loving dennis? he wasn't sure he could conceive that, much less perform it. after so many years in denial, he was finally ready and now..._ )

of his miserable life. of course, it had been miserable all along but dennis had made it seem okay. had made mac okay, even - as okay as a man who has never been okay in his life can make another who can't be okay with himself. mac liked to convince himself that okay meant nothing to him, that even if it wasn't "okay" how he felt about dennis, the way he was, how god had made him, he had to accept it. because that was the exact opposite of what he had been told his whole life, by everyone.

( _he still hated himself sometimes. sometimes the thought of his attraction, the thought of acting on it, made him sick to his stomach. he hated that he was like this, hated that he couldn't get over hating that he was like this, hated himself. he was jealous of dennis, who seemed so carefree. he wished he could at least have that illusion, fucking guys without a care, as if it didn't affect him. dennis loved to pretend that being with guys was curiosity, girls was love.)_

this was his life now, and he had to accept it. he didn't hate being out of the closet - he was glad the others hadn't minded, though he knew deep down that they couldn't have. they'd known it all along and somewhere along the ride he'd figured it out too. the only difference was that they had never hated him for it. his life was trying to gather up the courage to go to bars where he'd fit in in a different way than he'd fit with the gang, a place where they knew his struggles and were open about how they were like he wanted to be. where the others had gotten over the hurdles that he was facing in that moment, the hurdles that felt like mountains. his life was watching the tapes in the top drawer of dennis' room and  _feeling_  more than he should've. his life was curling up to the mixtapes dennis had kept in his car that they had listened to together and feeling like his chest was going to explode from the deep sobs ripping through.

( _was this a sign that things were going wrong? did this mean that he wanted to leave me? was this why?_ )

he listened to those tapes and ignored dee's calls and charlie's concerned knocks on the door for hours that stretched to days and days that stretched to weeks, aching throughout his entirety knowing that it was him, he cared too much and fell too hard and  _this_ was what had happened. he knew that he had never been and would never be a good person, but as those weeks inched by he felt like the monster he'd always wanted to be but instead he hated it, hated the feeling that crept through his chest and ate everything inside of him until he was numb, numb, numb.

( _the only time he wasn't numb was when he wished he could be. hundreds of unsent texts._

 _dennis_ , _i miss you - deleted._

_dennis, i lo - deleted._

_please just come ba - deleted._

_i'm begging you, dennis reynolds, please don't leave - deleted._

_dennis, dennis, dennis, dennis, dennis, i'm sorry for everything but i need you, i need you more than anything, i need you so i can be okay and i want to know that you're okay but at the same time i want you to not be because i need you - deleted._

_please - deleted.)_

every night bright blue light shone onto his face for hours on end. his eyes were too glazed over to leak tears, instead he stared blankly and wished for something else, something that dee and charlie and even frank's missed calls couldn't give him, and he knew exactly what it was. wishing he could get up the courage to send just one tiny message, hating that he couldn't, hating himself, going to the bottle. it became routine. he couldn't help but think that dennis would be proud. dennis would be proud of a lot of things mac had done, in fact. or at least he would get it, more than charlie or dee or frank or cricket or the goddamn waitress ever could.

( _he would get it, mac knew he would. he would tell mac that it was okay that he'd stopped eating, though mac would never say why. when he ate, the achingly numb monster ate, too. at least hunger was something, even if it didn't fill the void but instead give it a name. dennis would understand the way the whiskey burned his throat, how it felt like bottled love, angry and painful and important. it had never felt like that before. before, it had felt like a way to forget dennis. after it just felt like dennis.)_

mac never went to the bar anymore. he went out for coffee every day by himself, or at least as many days as he could get himself out of the bed he imagined still held dennis' scent. it was almost everything he had. the fire of whisky, the emptiness of hunger, and bitter coffee. he would order a large cup and drink about two sips before he could no longer stand it, could no longer stand himself. he left whatever he could for the waiter so he could watch them smile as they walked away. he liked to imagine that he could someday be like that, back in his prime again. it reminded him of dennis, because everything did. was dennis peaking wherever he was? dennis had said they'd be able to feel it, and mac certainly was feeling something that felt like dennis. was this what beginning to peak felt like?

( _he still had dreams where he saw dennis' face, heard his voice, felt his touch just one more time. it was scary to wake up from a dream like that with a pang in his stomach and another in his throat, though only one of them ended up tasting of bile, or so he assumed. he'd only ever tasted the one that did.)_

it wasn't long before he had to face the others again. he didn't feel like they could call themselves the gang anymore, or make jokes, or live any kind of lives, but he needed money, he needed to live on the off chance that maybe he'd get to see dennis just one more time. he was never happy anymore, he knew, and the gang could see it. they saw it in the gauntness of his face when not even years before he'd talked about how he'd loved that big scary monster, they saw it in the bags under his eyes though he'd had nothing to do but sleep, they smelt it in the whiskey on his breath at eight in the morning because dennis was no longer there to talk him down. they heard it in how he took every opportunity to hate himself. mac saw it too when he looked in the mirror, but he didn't feel sorry or sad. he wanted to scream,  _my life is shit because i deserve it._

( _he'd thought dennis could change, maybe he could learn to love instead of use a system, maybe he could change the man. how had he not realised how stupid he was? that was what every woman - and the few men - to ever be d.e.n.n.i.s.ed thought. mac had accepted that until dennis had gone against it. had up and left. had changed the game. he stayed up every night wishing he had found a solution.)_

mac stopped coming to work, stopped staring at his phone, stopped leaving the apartment, stopped crying. he didn't need to quell his loneliness, he just needed to find a way to talk to it. laying in bed for days without food or water or even the warmth of stolen rum, he saw it. saw the monster inside of him wreaking havoc on his life, his apartment, his relationships, and he just... let it.

he hadn't made anything better, but the monster inside of him 

( _he was as big and disgusting as mac had been - mac could see why dennis had hated him now - and he made mac throw up and held him in bed and screamed at his "friends" at the door. it was okay, mac liked this monster. they understood each other.)_

was a more worthy companion than dennis had ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> keep in mind that 
> 
> a) this is a drabble, meaning in my context that it's something short i wrote in the middle of the night
> 
> b) i'm not a great writer, but i do appreciate constructive criticism!
> 
> c) THIS IS NOT MY USUAL WRITING STYLE - well, should i say, my writing style changes all the time and this one is very different from the one i'm most comfortable in, which is why it's so weird.


End file.
